


Run

by CatCalls



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 13:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19724509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatCalls/pseuds/CatCalls
Summary: "Would you stay with me, my love, for another day?"





	Run

**Author's Note:**

> Run by Daughter was the inspiration for this.

Hot Rod was warm.

His touch, his eyes, his smile.

It all held a certain kind of comfort, wide and engulfing, always chasing away the cold bite that seemed to cling to Deadlock in the worst of his days, when the thrill of the fight seemed to wear off and the dead and destruction finally managed to catch up to him, he was the light that gave him back some kind of semblance of stability and control, what helped to not just give in to the worst kind of monsters that lurked around on the depths of his processor.

Deadlock loved him, he came to realize, after some time, always coming back to him when he was done doing his part for the cause and staying until he was called once again.

And he knew Hot Rod loved him, too, for the way his look turned a little bit more tender and soft whenever he came around, for how his field flared, smitten and joyous and free, for the way he managed to make the tension and worry slip away for a while, the weight of freeing Nyon not as strong when they were together.

Just like now, with the both of them venturing through the grime and decaying streets and alleyways, laughing and playing like a pair of younglings, giving lingering touches and taunting calls, daring and a tad bit harsh to see how far they could take things that time.

Deadlock caught the other mech in his arms, quick and unforgiving, making the both of them spin before coming to a halt, Hot Rod made a sound akin to a screech, breathless, before huffing and trying to squirm out of the embrace. Deadlock smirked, holding tighter and moving the clawed tips of his servos to explore the seams of the armor he was able to reach, settling his helm on the crook of his lover's neck.

“Going somewhere, sweet spark?” He commented casually, he felt Hot Rod trying to stifle his laughter, struggling a little harder.

“As a matter of fact, yes, but I think I got caught by a bit of trouble.” The nyonian huffed, tapping at the servos holding him, amused and annoyed.

Deadlock smirked “Oh, but I’m much more than just _a bit of trouble_.” And he let out a small puff of air over the sensitive cables exposed on the neck of the mech he was holding, feeling the shudder the action caused.

“Deadlock!” Hot Rod chided him, between pleased and scandalized.

The decepticon enjoyed quite a lot the sound that he prompted when he gave the same spot a small bite. He was just considering what his next move should be when he received a message through his comm. link. Free time was over, apparently.

Deadlock huffed, reluctantly loosening his hold, sending an affirmative answer to inform he had gotten the message. Meanwhile, Hot Rod turned to face him, a knowing look on his optics.

“Time to go, huh?” He called, playful and concealing his disappointment.

“Yeah, I think something big is coming, I have to be there.”

Hot Rod hummed as an answer “Be careful, alright?”

Deadlock scoffed “Like those autobots could actually get me.” When that earned him and unimpressed look he frowned but relented “Fine,” and softly, almost nonchalantly “You could come to make sure of it.”

Hot Rod smiled, small and resigned, because this wasn’t the first time this was brought up “Get going, Deadlock.”

“You're no fun.” He grumbled, starting to take off to hide his disappointment despite knowing that was the answer he was going to receive, because that was the one he always got, but he could never hold it against Hot Rod, not really, he knew how much the rebellion meant to him. How strongly he wished to free his home and the people that lived in it.

He was noble, optimistic and _naive_ like that, Deadlock found that endearing about him as well.

He was committed to his cause, just like Deadlock was to his (except that more, really).

He didn’t turn around, because Deadlock wasn’t sure if he would be strong enough to respect Hot Rod's wish if he did.

(...)

When Deadlock said something big was coming he didn’t thought it would be in the way it did, he thought that it would be Megatron’s newest plan of intimidation and revenge towards the senate, a strategy to gain more territory for the Decepticons…

As it turned out, the plan wasn’t part of the Decepticon agenda at all, totally the opposite, it was Zeta Prime newest attempt at obtaining weapons to aid him in the conflict.

And it wasn’t just big, it was massive, sickening and horrifying.

Deadlock would have been impressed as well as disgusted if he wasn’t completely terrified for the place where that particular hell had been unleashed.

_Nyon._

His spark clenched painfully inside of his chamber, agitated and barely restrained, he needed to find Hot Rod, ensure he was safe.

Primus, let him be safe.

Because if he wasn’t, if something have happened to him…

Deadlock didn’t know what would be of him, what exactly he would become.

So he sped off, avoiding rubble and fire, dread growing with every location he explored to find nothing, no Hot Rod, alive or otherwise, a hopeful part of him dared to think that _maybe_ the speedster hadn’t been there at all. But he knew better than that, of course he did.

So he kept going.

And when he thought the desperation was going to make him crumble, when the frustration was going to make him lash out, he found him. Kneeled at the outskirts of the city.

Looking small, bitter and broken, and _cold_. It was so wrong.

He hurried, relief bubbling between the anger he felt against the mechs responsible of this suffering. Of all the hurt and heartache he saw reflected on his lovers faceplate, shining from the embers and flames consuming Nyon.

It had fallen, the home Hot Rod had wished so strongly to protect, to bring peace and save, and be bright and amazing and _good_.

It was gone, being ashes, just a carcass of dreams and what-ifs, of happy memories for them, despite it all.

“Roddy,” Deadlock started, falling to the ground and seeing Hot Rod flinch, and the decepticon felt his vents stutter, he didn’t know what he could say, he couldn’t make this better, when he moved, it was more instinct and desperate intent that anything else, he cradled the frame of the other closer to his, shielding him from the rest of the world, shuddering and uncertain, feeling the trembles and gasps the bot let out, and he knew Hot Rod was crying.

He felt like he was going to do that too, out of frustration, of pain, in a way, he felt like he had failed him. If the decepticons had been a little bit faster at ending the Senate and the current Prime, then this wouldn’t have happened. Rationally, he knew that was just wishful thinking, the cause had a big support, but a conflict was never easily won.

Still, that didn’t helped the hatred boiling under his plating, searing and horrible, like the way his spark ached for seeing his loved one in such a state.

He held him tighter, as close as he could bring him, field concealing and trying to transmit all the comfort he wanted to show him. He wanted to be reassuring, but he didn’t want to be untruthful.

So he hoped that his feelings, strong and raw and honest, could help.

When Hot Rod finally moved away, it was just a bit, like he was reluctant about parting at all, and his voice sounded just as wrong as the rest of him “It’s my fault.”

It was quiet, tired and pleading, and Deadlock felt the urge to punch Hot Rod for saying something like that, for saying it that way, so full of conviction, like he really ordered Nyon to be decimated by those horrible machines, he snarled and prepared a harsh retort, but Hot Rod shook his helm.

“I… I destroyed it, so that the people wouldn’t get used, I killed them. They could have still escaped, but I didn’t give them the chance, those things were horrifying and letal and I… Primus, how could I did it? Why was I the one to do it?” There was hurt, in every word, accusation, a certain kind of yearning and shame, and so much regret.

Suddenly, Deadlock remembered the times he would trail behind the speedster, seeing him put together explosives through different parts of the city. How solemn he looked while doing so despite stating it would never have to come down to that.

And it made sense, now, and despite knowing how it made sense in this situation, how in the end it was the _right_ thing to do, that probably didn't make the decision any easier to take and live with it.

His embrace became tighter once more, fierce, and his comm. link pinged.

“Do you have to leave?” Hot Rod inquired, seeing the quick change of focus and Deadlock paused to look at him, blue eyes flickered with uncertainty “Could you… Would you stay? Just a little longer. Please?”

_I don't want to be alone._

His comm. link flashed, still waiting, and he considered, his stance in the decepticon movement, the way it had inspired him to strive for something better, of the violence and anger he cultivated and how that changed him, what all of that meant to him.

But he also thought about Hot Rod, about how their met more out of coincidence than real intent, how things changed and the hate that consumed him little by little appeared to get under control the longer he spend with the mech in his arms, he thought about the joy and simple happiness despite the world being rotten and falling apart around them, he thought about the warmth.

He began to get to his ped, slowly, moving his servos so that they were holding Hot Rod’s, bringing him along and steadying him when his peds appeared to be unable to hold him.

Deadlock looked at the optics in front of him, a pale blue that hid away their true brightness.

He saw the flames of Nyon dancing on them, and he thought, somehow, that this would be the start of worse things. He didn’t know where that idea came from, but it made him feel restless.

Deadlock never was the kind to feel uncomfortable or put off by the idea of violence, but this time, experiencing the possibility of loss so close to him, realizing it could happen again but being true this time…

He didn’t know if he was going to be willing to be part of it.

So Deadlock squeezed tighter the servos he was holding, feeling resolution extending on his field, and he smiled with a certain kind of harshness despite trying to be reassuring “Of course, sweet spark.”

And then he scowled and ran, not letting go of Hot Rod, bringing him along and away from the heartbreak and pain, away from something that he knew would chase them, in the form of memories and hurt for a long time. But hopping time would help, hoping they could escape and forget about the flames _._

Hoping to protect the light he was holding for a little longer, and for real, from now on.

Decepticons didn’t ran he mussed, then again, he supposed, while rubbing gentle circles and muttering soft words to Hot Rod while leaving the ruins of Nyon behind, after leaving his comm. link go by without an answer, he wasn't one anymore.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Well, um, this is my first work for this fandom, I think it ended up being really Out Of Character and not that good, so sorry about that...
> 
> Still, thanks for reading, comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
